


Rabuho

by peaches2217



Category: Vocaloid
Genre: But that one's real, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Humor, Love Hotels, M/M, Slightly smutty but nothing too severe, Technically Len is bi but that's not relevant here, The rest may or may not be, gay nerds, i dunno, sadly the Hello Kitty BDSM Dungeon is in fact very real
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 10:49:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13657479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peaches2217/pseuds/peaches2217
Summary: "I wanna make love in an overpriced gaudy room on sheets that cost more than my annual net worth!" And so begins a journey of introspective romantic reflection... and, of course, the kinds of activities one normally finds in a love hotel.





	Rabuho

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note at the end. Please enjoy!

It all started with an innocent inquiry.

“Hey Len? Can we stay there together some time?”

The suggestion, though quiet and a little shy-sounding, was nevertheless delivered very casually. Oliver had his eyes fixed on something off in the distance, but he hadn’t stopped to gesture to it, and his hold on Len’s hand was just as relaxed as ever. An easy nod of his head directed Len’s gaze to its target.

Oliver didn’t tense until he felt Len do the same. Which was Len’s first indication that he didn’t realize how decidedly _not_ -innocent the request was.

“I-it’s just,” the one-eyed boy quickly clarified as Len felt his face go redder than Meiko’s publicity costume, “I’ve always wanted to stay in a Japanese-style hotel. I haven’t ever spent the night anywhere but the House ever since moving in and I’ve never been in any hotel outside of England and—”

Ah, okay. Yeah. That was it. That was all he was asking. Of course. Of course it was. Nothing to get worked up over. Especially not in public.

“Great!” Len forced himself to breathe - in, out, in, out - and he loosened the death grip he now realized he had Oliver’s hand in. “A hotel! Sure, we can do that! Let’s catch a train to Sapporo and stay at a hotel there!”

“Sapporo? What’s wrong with this one?”

“Ah, well, ah, this one is a Western-style hotel.”

“No, you’re thinking of the one on the other side of town.”

Dammit, he was. And there were only two hotels here in town: the Western one, and… _that_ one.

By now the pair had slowed to a stop, hogging the sidewalk and receiving the glares of passers-by as Oliver patiently waited for his stammering boyfriend to explain why  _that hotel_ was so inadequate. Why couldn’t he just say it? It wasn’t like he was trying to protect Oliver’s innocence. They had given their innocence up to each other just a few months ago, anyway. He’d get it.

Willing the hammering of his heart to even out, Len pulled him off the sidewalk and beneath the canopy of a storefront window. Casting a few glances around, double-checking that no one was trying to listen in, he whispered: “It’s… It’s a love hotel.”

A golden eye stared up at him.

“Okay.”

Silence.

“...What’s a love hotel?”

Why did this have to come up  _now_ , of all times and places? Nevertheless, Len gave little more than a sigh before explaining. “It’s a hotel where you go to… to, y’know, have sex. Like, that’s its _only_ purpose.”

“Oh.” Oliver glanced at his reflection in the window. “ _Oh_.” As he stared into his own eye, it widened, and his face became tinged with pink. “ ** _Oh_** _._ ”

“Yeah.”

“That- that makes sense now! Because isn’t that where Rin went with—”

“Yup, that’s the place.”

“Super fancy, super ornate?”

“Over-the-top themed rooms, dumbwaiter for room service, all that.”

“No wonder they kept talking about it being a ‘unique experience’! They weren’t just referring to—”

“Nope. They were— they were talking about the hotel too.”

“I see.” Oliver spent a moment longer staring at himself; Len could almost see all of the bits and pieces of context clicking into place, absorbing into his mind. And he could almost - no, he really _could_ see his face returning to its normal color, his chin lifting, his expression setting into one of firm resolve…

“In that case,” he said as he turned back to Len, a smile, an unbelievably mischievous smile, quirking his lips…

Panic set in half a second too late. He jerked forward to slam a palm over Oliver’s mouth, only for Ollie to catch his wrists and pull them down in sheer excitement.

“Let’s go to the love hotel together, Len!”

“O-Oliver! Not so lou—”

“I wanna experience something new with you! _I wanna make love in an overpriced gaudy room on sheets that cost more than my annual net worth!_ ”

Len’s earlier attempt to not attract attention was now all for naught. Everyone within earshot had stopped in their tracks and focused their full attentions on the pair, giggling or glaring or just staring in incredulity. Running wouldn’t save him any face. Not like he could run anyway. Sheer mortification glued his feet to the ground. And Oliver, ever oblivious to the attention, finally let go and chuckled into the back of his left hand.

“Th-that’s my new wish. It’s so secret and scandalous, isn’t it?”

“It’s hardly a secret if everyone within a five-kilometer radius knows about it,” Len grumbled, head hung, face all but engulfed in flames.

And at long last, Oliver caught on.

“...You look like you need to sit down.”

“That’d be great.”

~~~

“It’s alright,” Len assured his apologetic boyfriend for the sixth time in three minutes, handing him the bubble tea he’d ordered before taking a seat across from him. “You’re just loud when you get excited. You didn’t mean to make a scene. I know.”

Oliver sighed at last, resigning himself to the acceptance. “I’m so good at humiliating you.”

“C’mon, none of that. I’m over it. It’s nothing to worry about.”

With a half-hearted nod, Oliver rested his cheeks in his palms and his elbows on the table and sipped his drink.

Now that he had calmed down and everyone else had gone about with their lives, the silence gave Len a chance to think. Oliver’s request hadn’t been what set him over the edge. Though every bit as boisterous as his sister, Len was still at heart a very shy and private person. Especially when it came to matters of love and sex.

In truth, he’d thought about it before, at least in passing. Rin had told him everything - _everything_ , eaugh. - about her and her own’s night in the love hotel. It sounded like fun. But he’d never given serious thought to it. He and Oliver were still exploring that side of their relationship. So for Oliver to publicly announce his intentions like that… That wasn’t for everyone to know. That was between them. Some sweet talk over ice cream, holding hands while going about their business, that was okay. But the world didn’t need to know just how deep their affections ran.

Especially when he himself still wasn’t entirely sure.

Which, honestly, made the suggestion of a night in the love hotel sound all the more appealing. An evening away from the House, alone and naked with the guy he loved, no need to worry about being heard or interrupted… A whole night that they could spend in a world entirely their own. Not just an opportunity to fuck with reckless abandon, but to take a step back, figure out exactly where they stood, make sure they were still on the same page. A night of external and internal evaluation.

...It sounded nice.

“Hun, you haven’t touched your drink. You okay?”

The affectionate term snapped Len out of his train of thought. Blinking a couple of times, he looked ahead and found Oliver, empty cup in hand, head tilted slightly to his right. His eye at least looked brighter than it did when they’d sat down.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking…” Len took a sip of his drink (and winced at how watered down it had become), smacking his lips before he spoke again. “You free tonight?”

“I… I believe so. Why?”

Allowing himself a carefree smile, Len reached across the table to take Oliver’s hand. “Let’s go to the love hotel.”

Now it was Oliver’s turn to devolve into a stammering, blushing mess.

“I— That is— Len, no, y-you really don’t have to if you don’t want to! I understand!”

“I know. And that’s really sweet of you. But I honestly want to. Just…” He laughed, giving the hand in his grasp a quick squeeze. “Don’t shout about things like that in the middle of the street next time, okay?”

Oliver laughed in turn. “Deal. So, um… What’s the plan?”

“I was thinking we could make a date of it. We can get Rin to watch James for the evening. In the morning we can swing by the cafe for breakfast before going home.”

“Really? I’ll chip in if that’s the case!”

“Don’t worry! I’ll take care of it.”

Oliver ran a thumb over his knuckle and smiled so hard that his eye squinted nearly closed. The deal had already been sealed. But seeing him beam so brightly made it all the more sweet.

~~~

Twenty minutes later, the door to Meiko’s room slammed open.

“Mei-chan! I need ¥10,000, stat!”

“If you’re gonna spend it all on pudding cups, the answer is no.”

“Must you always bring up the sins of my past?!”

~~~

The lobby looked more or less like the lobby of any ordinary hotel. Except… empty. A few people lounged about, mulling over their rooming options, but no receptionists greeted them. Instead, machines were spaced out evenly, with touchscreens on the upper halves and slots for payment built into the lower halves.

Len spent entirely too long trying to jam a ¥10,000 bill into one said slot while Oliver was busy admiring the decor.

“Do you want my money or not, you stupid—”

“Len? I think we have to choose a room before it’ll accept any payment.”

The large print on the screen that read **_PLEASE SELECT ROOM TO VIEW PAYMENT OPTIONS_ ** backed the claim up.

Oliver playfully nudged Len as he shamefully pressed  ** _START_**. “Someone’s a little eager, huh?”

“Shut up.”

The  ** _ROOM SELECT_ ** page was filled with all kinds of colorful wonder. Each scene seemed like something out of a magazine or a movie or a really bad porno. A few looked like fairly typical rooms. Then there was the School Scene room, the Great Flaming Tits room, the  _Hello Kitty_ -themed BDSM dungeon... For a moment, Len wondered if maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

“Len, check it out! I think that’s the room Rin was talking about!”

The room in question did, in fact, look a lot like the descriptions the female Kagamine twin had provided: a traditional Japanese-style bedroom with a low-lying bed. Through the center ran a small stream with a bridge over it.

“Huh. I was sure she was making the part about the stream up.”

“How do you suppose they maintain a running stream in a single room? Where does it come from? Where does it go?”

Deciding that sleeping together in the same room Rin and her S.O. had done the deed in was a tad weird, they trudged on.

“This one’s got a rotating bed!”

“A train scene? Looks uncomfortable…”

“It’s a pool. Like, the entire room is just one giant pool. Floaties provided.”

“Candy-themed! It’s so… _pink_.”

Forcing a steady flow of air in and out of his nostrils, Len mentally took a step back and assessed the situation. In a sense, it was… kind of amusing. The casual air with which they scrolled through the rooms list, poking and prodding and commenting and teasing, called to mind the many nights they’d curled up on the couch in the living room or in Oliver’s room and bantered over which movie they should watch.

 _“God, guys,”_ Rin would laugh whenever she was included on movie nights (which, being one’s twin and the other’s best friend, was frequently), _“could’ja slow down a little?”_

Slow down. Yeah. That was a good idea. Just… enjoy the moment.

Len stopped giving serious thought to the strange rooms before them, leaving the quirky commentary to his other half. All he wanted to do was enjoy this moment for all it was worth. Slowly — just a little too slowly — he reached to take Oliver’s hand, as he always did during their movie selection process.

Oliver pulled it away before he could make contact.

“Ooh, check this one out!” Using the hand he’d unknowingly ripped from Len’s grasp, he tapped a thumbnail that stood out: dark blue in a sea of pinks and reds. For the first time since they had started, Len found himself paying attention once more — and for reason besides ignoring his wounded pride.

 _Cosmos_ was the official name of the room. From the images provided, the room was painted the color of the night sky and dotted with either tiny fluorescent bulbs or flecks of white paint to simulate a starry eve, with a round bed in the center adorned with matching linens (or silks, according to the description).

Alarms shrieked in the back of Len’s mind. A starry night sky. A scene straight from the Rooftop. It was perfect.

His eyes locked with Oliver’s almost immediately.

“Well then,” Oliver inquired, grinning coyly, “shall we?”

The payment slot at long last took the bill.

~~~

The room did, in fact, call the Rooftop to mind. Complete darkness except for the blinking lights built into the walls and ceiling, an air conditioning unit providing what felt eerily like a late night breeze. What really sold it was the etching of a city skyline in the left corner of the room, beside the bathroom door. A skyline more grandiose than the one they could see from their roof, sure, but it still fit.

While Oliver explored the room and its drawers and found a place to set the bag he and Len had packed, Len laid back on the bed (whose luxurious sheets probably _did_ cost more than either of their net worths) and stared up at the sky above him.

Interestingly, the layout of the lights wasn’t as random as it seemed at first glance. A few easily recognizable constellations had been built into the star display: Ursa Major, Ursa Minor, even Cepheus and Cassiopeia. A minor detail, but nevertheless impressive. They were constellations that could sometimes be viewed from their place on the Rooftop.

“Isn’t it neat?”

Len bounced in place as Oliver fell back onto the bed beside him. He turned his attention from the stars to watching Ollie’s face as he stared up, tracing the lines in the stars with his eye. At least that’s what Len assumed. Laying to his right meant that he could only see the bandaged left half of Oliver’s face. He could, however, see his lips parting and fluttering as he whispered the names of the stars and constellations he recognized.

The only reason Len knew any of them was because Oliver had taught him. _“Star nerd,”_ he’d chuckled more than once. _“Always have been, always will be,”_ was usually the response.

Nevertheless, Len sat through each lesson eagerly. At first because he just wanted to know more. Eventually because he wanted to hear Oliver’s voice. The shrinking violet never talked unless he was entirely comfortable, and even then, he only ever raised his voice when he was excited. And when he talked about the stars, the stars in his eye came alive, and he rambled a kilometer a minute, sometimes lapsing into English because he just couldn’t express his joy properly in Japanese.

“It’s beautiful,” he said finally.

Len’s response came before he could catch himself. “Yeah, you are.”

_I love you._

Oliver tilted his head to get a proper look at Len’s face. Even in the relative darkness, Len could see how dark his cheeks were - and he knew Oliver could see the same reaction reflected.

“Oi, that was a cheap shot.”

In watching Oliver’s elation over the decor, Len had slipped into something like a trance. Right now they weren’t at some strange hotel on the opposite end of town from the House. They were on the House’s roof, as they had been many nights before. The breeze ruffled Oliver’s flaxen hair as it always did. Here and now, on the Rooftop where Oliver had taught Len about the stars. Where Len had taught Oliver how to swing dance because why the hell not. Where they practiced their collaborations before presenting the finalized project to their housemates.

_I love you so much._

Where they lamented to one another the struggles of being queer guys in an industry that fetishisized people like them. Where Len first realized he was falling in love. Where, on a quiet and breezy night like tonight, they’d succumbed to the desires of their racing hearts and shared their first kiss. And their second kiss. And their third.

In the glow of the starlight, Oliver’s eye shone the most brilliant shade of molten gold. He turned on his side to better see, to better feel. Tentatively, Len reached out to brush the hair from his face. Oliver smiled and closed his eye when fingertips met his skin, and the quietest, gentlest hum slipped from his throat.

_I need you._

In spite of how touchy-feely his family was, Len had always been starved for touch. He wanted not the playful physical abuse he and his sister subjected one another to, nor the bear hugs Miku loved to give at random, but the soft touches and kisses only lovers could give. In spite of how played-up his sexual appeal was to his fanbase, he was a hopeless romantic, a lovestruck teenager who just wanted someone to share all of that love with.

And with Oliver, all of his needs were met. Their relationship was as natural as natural could be: friends within a day, lovers only a few months later. And now here they were, lost in one another’s gazes. Oliver rested his hand over the one on his face and opened his eye, and it took all Len had not to shudder. That look, that look that screamed total adoration. An adoration he felt down to his very core. He prayed Oliver could see the same in his eyes.

A force beyond his control pulled Len’s eyes shut. He’d seen all he needed to see for now. Now he needed more. He felt Oliver shift his weight and lean in, slipping his free hand behind Len’s head to free his hair from its ponytail. He sighed, and Len felt his breath brush over his face, across his lips, and he couldn’t take it anymore. He needed him more than anything. Oliver. His _koibito_. His most beloved in all the world.

His…

“Len…”

His friend.

_Oliver._

Len’s eyes snapped open.

“W-wait—!”

As though he’d been forced beneath a waterfall, a chill rushed through his body, and he yanked his hand away and frantically sat up and the trance snapped in half. Now he was shivering, holding his breath, on an unfamiliar bed in a strange hotel on the other side of the town.

Somewhere in what felt like another room, he heard Oliver.

“Len! Len, what’s wrong?”

That. That’s what was wrong. That was it. That was where his uncertainty, his discomfort stemmed from.

Oliver was his best friend. There was no doubt about that. His best friend who conveniently liked guys the same way he did. Who conveniently was also desperate for love. Who would probably sleep with anyone who promised to give him that love, as Len always joked he himself would. Len cared the same for Oliver as he cared about Rin and Miku and Meiko and Kaito and Luka and everyone else he considered his friends. But Oliver was the only friend that could fully meet his needs.

His feelings. These overwhelming feelings that set his heart racing and flustered him and made him feel so peaceful, so happy, so alive. Those same feelings he knew were present in Oliver.

All of it was the result of selfish manipulation.

Len gasped in a desperate attempt to restore air to his lungs, and with that first breath came the first tears.

“Len,” he heard much closer now. A pair of arms, frail but assured, wrapped around him, and Oliver pulled Len’s head into the crook of his neck. “Len. It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. I’m here.”

All of Len’s efforts to hold it together broke apart miserably. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve the gentle caresses, the whispered words of assurance, the love of a friend he’d manipulated so.

Maybe that was why he was so hesitant to let the world know how deep their affections ran. Maybe a part of him had always known said affections came from a self-serving purpose.

“Len,” he heard once more after soaking Oliver’s shirt. “Talk to me, Len. I wanna help. But you have to tell me what’s wrong.”

_I love you._

“I love you,” Len finally managed, his words muffled by the damp fabric. For the first time he realized just how bittersweet the words tasted on his tongue.

“I love you too, dearest,” the reply came easily.

The tears, which had finally begun to slow, came once more. “I’m sorry you love me.”

_I love you so much._

“I’m so, so sorry Ollie-kun.”

Now, and only now, did Oliver stiffen. A whimper slipped out of Len when Oliver pulled back, but he kept his hands on his shoulders, ensuring the contact wasn’t entirely broken.

“Tell me what’s on your mind,” he said in pure and absolute earnest that made Len’s heart heavier than ever. “I want to hear everything.”

And it all came spilling out: the realization, the manipulation, the guilt and the shame, apology after apology after apology. _I love you. I need you. I don’t deserve you._

And when words failed, Len resigned himself, sagged forward, and waited for it all to sink in. Whatever happened next… Well, it would be nothing more than he deserved.

“Len…”

 _Gulp_.

“...Len, what on earth makes you think all of that?”

Whatever Len had been expecting, that wasn’t it.

Fingertips reached beneath his chin and lifted his head. And he was met with a face filled with not confusion or scorn or… _anything_ he felt he deserved, but compassion and understanding.

“It’s not a crime to want love, Len.” Oliver’s smile was tender, warm, and it was almost enough to make Len smile too. “If we’re running on your logic, then I’m equally selfish for going after a friend who, you know, is _conveniently_ gay and all that. Is that selfish of me? To look for love in someone who I know can provide it?”

God, Len hated it when Oliver used his own arguments against him. He swiped at his face and shook his head.

“Exactly. You didn’t _make_ me or  _manipulate_ me into falling in love with you. It just kinda… happened.” The smile wavered; he pulled his hand away and stuffed it into his lap, casting his gaze to some spot on the floor. “To be honest, I… sometimes feel I’m being a bit overbearing with you. So I _do_ understand where your concerns come from.”

Len blinked. “Overbearing?” But as soon as the word left his mouth, he knew what Oliver was talking about. The unabashed kisses where they could easily be seen, acting “eager and ready” behind the bedroom door, discussing entirely private subjects in perfect earshot of strangers. It always left Len feeling breathless and shaky and a little frustrated and he almost always loved it.

Huh.

“I just…” Len exhaled through his nose, tapping his knee as he searched for words. “I’m… scared. Like, I really, really love you. Madly. And how am I supposed to know that all of… _that_ is true? That we’re not just fooling ourselves ‘cause we care about each other but maybe not…” The very thought made him wince. “...That much?”

Oliver fell into contemplation, still staring intensely at the floor, lips pursed.

Then his hands came up to the bandages obscuring half of his face.

“Do you remember the first time I showed you this?” he asked, still not looking directly at Len as he unwound them.

Of course Len remembered. The night they had first gone all the way. Shaking and on the verge of tears, Oliver had shown Len his face as a show of ultimate trust. His heart skipped a beat as he finished and laid the bandages on the floor.

“I was scared,” Oliver whispered, and at last he looked at Len and pushed his hair back so the other could see the mangled and burned flesh, the left eye sewn tightly shut. “But I knew I could trust you. I knew you wouldn’t care how screwed up I look. Because you’re my best friend.”

Just as he had that night, Len touched him, pressed his palm against his left cheek as lightly as he could, as though the marks were still fresh and painful. He still remembered. The months he’d spent silently wondering what was under those bandages, all of his questions being answered… And yet all he could think about was how beautiful this boy sitting before him was.

Oliver pressed his own palm against the back of Len’s hand, leaning into the touch. “So trust me, okay? And trust yourself.” He peeked up through his lashes and gave another smile. “Because there’s no rush. We’ll figure out what kind of love this is. But whatever it is, it’s still love. And I know it’s genuine.”

In the glow of the stars, his face, his smile, he was more beautiful than ever. Len’s hand began to tremble once more, but not because he was sad or ashamed or regretful. The breeze ruffled their hair and encouraged them to huddle closer together and in that moment, Len wanted nothing more than to kiss his best friend.

So he did.

“...If it’s all the same,” Oliver chanced, running his fingers through Len’s hair and pulling him back into their trance, “I’d like to pick back up where we left off.”

Len couldn’t wait a second longer; his responding chuckle was made against Oliver’s lips, softer and sweeter than caramel pudding. “Beautiful _and_ insatiable,” he managed once they parted again.

“You wouldn’t have me any other way.”

“Hmm.”

Beneath the stars, their bodies came together at last.

~~~

“It’s alright,” Oliver assured his apologetic boyfriend for the eighth time in two minutes. “I’m just glad you told me. That’s not a good thing to keep bottled up.”

“I broke down crying in a _freaking love hotel_ ,” Len groaned. Sure, they had talked things out and now he was more sure of their relationship than ever. Sure, they eventually got around to the “love” part, and now they were lounging nude beneath the softest, silkiest, most stain-resistant sheets he’d ever known (he made a mental note to check the tag and figure out what brand they were. He’d use his paycheck from their next concert to surprise Oliver). He’d gotten everything out of this adventure that he’d set out to do, and that was all good and well.

But he still had a breakdown in a love hotel, which is humiliating no matter what way you paint it.

“For the last time,” Oliver grumbled without any real malice, cuddling closer and tracing a finger over the outline of Len’s two-pack, “I don’t care, and I’m not gonna tell anyone, so it doesn’t matter.”

Len thought about arguing some more, but he was equally content to _Hmph._ in agreement and stare up at the stars with the love of his life in his arms. Though as he followed the lines of Cepheus for the umpteenth time, he couldn’t shake the nagging voice in the back of his head, the voice that said something was still wrong, something was missing.

“...Can I at least make it up to you?” he tried after a few moments’ thought. “Anything you want. I’ll make it happen, then I’ll drop the subject.”

Another moment of silence assured Len that he was at least considering the option.

“...I wanna see your face.”

That was enough to pull Len’s attention away from the ceiling. “My face?”

“Yeah.” Oliver scooted back and sat up, letting the sheets drop into his lap. “You get to see my face. Now I wanna see yours.”

Well, it was something. With little more than a shrug, Len pushed himself up as well, brushing his hair from his face. “Here ya go.”

Oliver hummed thoughtfully, squinting his eye and puckering his lips and tapping his chin as he observed. “Hmm… nope. Not that face.”

Before Len could even ask, his wrists were seized, and he was forced back onto the bed; Oliver pinned him, threw his leg over Len’s midsection and straddled him, rendering him immobile. And he hovered over him, a devilish glint in his eye, a growl bubbling in his throat, a confident smirk on his face.

The rush of heat that took over Len rendered him unable to breathe. Everything burned and ached all at once and he gasped silently and he wanted nothing more than to submit, to be ravished.

As quickly as it had appeared, Oliver’s dominant outburst faded, and he giggled. “There we go. That’s the face.”

The arousal, however, did not fade, much to Len’s frustration.

“Hey, tease,” he growled, freeing himself from Oliver’s grasp, “how about giving me half an hour to recover before pulling that on me?”

“I’m sorry! You offered.”

Len hated it when Oliver used his own arguments against him.

“I’m gonna take a shower.”

“And I’ll be eagerly awaiting your return.”

Len’s hand rested on the bathroom doorknob when he stopped.

“...Ollie?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s okay to make a selfish request every now and then, right?”

“I… yes, it is, I suppose.”

Len gave it another three seconds — one, two, three — before he opened the door.

And he smiled when he heard Oliver following right behind.

This was what had been missing. They’d paid for a full night in a love hotel. What good would it do them if they didn’t use that full night?

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So this is by no means my first Vocaloid fanfiction, but it's the first I've posted online since I was in the 9th grade (when I first tried my hand at "Gritty, Sexy Writing"... *shudders*). Since Valentine's Day is coming up, I wanted to do something with my Vocaloid OTP, which needs so, so much more love than it gets. So if this is decently received, I'd like to write and post more.
> 
> In all honesty, I haven't had the nerve to post anything in a very long time. My writing is a little rough around the edges, so I'd love comments or constructive criticism, but please don't be too harsh. I know it needs a lot of improvement. But I'm trying to get my foot back in the door, as it were.
> 
> If you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading!


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